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I'm 63, but it was 6 weeks ago I was first molested by a priest. It started 57 years ago. I was 6, an alter boy, a cliche', multiple priests for 5 years. No one paid attention to the signs. The temper tantrums, the crying, the acting out? No one saw a thing, and I was handed off like it was nothing. It stopped at 11, I think. Memories are still flowing in. It wasn't over. At either 14 or 15, in September. Odd I remember that. It was cold. I just gout into the boat after my turn skiing. I was really small for my age, maybe 5'3" and 100 lbs. Brother name, a christian brother, grabbed my towel and wrapped it around me to "warm me up" I can feel his fucking hands on me as I type this. I turned to look at my brother who is 3+ years older than me turn his back to me. My brother fed me to this wolf. Who does that? There's more I haven't uncovered yet. BUT Because I'm 63 I am past every statute available. I've gone from making over $400K to now, living in a beat up camper, with no job, only anxiety, anger, why, fear,and most of all determination. For all accounts I shouldn't be here. For all accounts I should be a drug addict, hooker, or was. I wouldn't have gotten past 30. I attribute my intelligence and the ability I had to bury everything that happened to me from age 4 - 18. If it wasn't clergy raping me, it was my brothers bullying me, my parents ignoring me, the several times I was left behind and no one noticed for hours. Finally I told my little sister, 7 years my junior, and 'm quoting "We all had a tough life, get over it" She's been blocked. I texted my brother and asked why he left them (I said them so I'm afraid of what's coming), he blocked me. Admission? I think so How do I get my JUSTICE?!

Last year I was gang raped. I have an ear ringing called tinnitus that has not stopped since. I have nightmares. I flew with my mom to a wedding overseas. I was excited. She would be busy with her friends and cousin and I would get to spend time with my awesome second cousin who is two years older than me. After the rehearsal dinner we went out. It was fun because I was not legally able to drink there even though the age was lower than in my province, but they did not check ID’s. I did not drink much because it was not my thing and I had a boyfriend but I was able to go to some bars then a club attached to a hotel. So much fun up to when we met two soldiers in uniform who were cute and separated us from her friends because of our looks. My cousin is stunning beautiful. They had a private room at the club and several soldiers were there and two prostitutes also. Those prostitutes definitely hated us being there. I wanted to get out anyway and the cute ones that invited us acted like they understood and took us out of there. We stupidly let them take us to their hotel room where they totally dropped the cute romantic act and made us strip our clothes to music. They showed us a gun they had in a drawer. I was terrified. They made us lay on our stomachs bent over the bed side by side and had sex with us that way. They switched like we were interchangeable before finishing in us with no protection. We held hands. I was crying while my cousin was trying to be strong and cheer me up. We weren’t allowed to leave and our clothes were hidden. Before took our phones we had to text that we were staying at my cousin’s friend’s house. Then they called two other soldiers, one of them a huge tall dark guy with body builder muscles. He was the worst to me. They made us dance and then we had to use our mouths on the cute ones that had lured us there while the other two had sex with us. I vomited and my cousin cleaned it up but then it started again. They had cocaine and made us sniff it off their parts and sniffed it off us. Another one came and I think it was just those five during the night but they kept raping us and making us do things even when we would pass out. I would like to have been more unconscious but cocaine makes you so awake. I want to remember less and think about it all less. We showered many times. The big dark one peed on me and in my mouth the shower. He did it more than once like I was his toilet. The other men even had to tell him to chill out when he was making me scream liking his fingers and pushing them in my arse, but not when he made me crawl around like a dog using my hair as a leash. I remember one of them calling their friends to tell them to turn all their t.v.’s way up to hide the noise in our room. They watched sports news on the t.v. They had me and my cousin kiss each other and stuff. I could not act like it was a fun party like my cousin did sometimes and encouraged me to do. She tried to take some of their attention away from me over and over. I love her for it but they did not leave me alone. My chest is something they were obsessed with. They did not care that I was obviously distressed and freaking out or that in my country I was three years below the age of consent. There I was the minimum. We woke up in the morning on one the beds together with only the two soldiers sleeping on the floor. The black one was gone! They had sex with us again and another man who was much older and who they called SIR came in and had sex with both us but mostly me. They cheered him on and my head was pounding and I was crying and it seemed to last forever. Finally we got our clothes back but they took us for brunch wearing their normal clothes. They showed me pictures on their phones that made it look like I was having fun and warned us how bad it would be if we said anything different than we had a nice party. A nice party in hell! Before that I’d had sex with only my 1 boyfriend ever. One night of hell and now my number was seven!! We had to start getting ready for the wedding right away and I was exhausted. My cousin hid me and I took a nap in my dress, hair and makeup until the last minute. I cried in the ceremony but not for the wedding. I was so sore in my vagina, muscles, and brain that I got so drunk at the reception I barely remember any of it. Just part of being on the plane home. I told my mom the truth when I got back and she got all crazy, so did my dad, and they tried to call over there and the hotel and such but there was nothing the police would do. I saw my dad cry for the first time as I told the whole story. My boyfriend could not handle it and dumped me. I go to group and do therapy. I take a pill everyday and now benzo’s for break through anxiety. I try to hide my large chest under baggy clothes where before I used it for attention. STUPID! My cousin does not seem to have the trauma I do or the nightmares. In her country they are done with secondary school up to two years before us and are more treated like adults sooner. I said mean things to her once because of it. She forgave me but we talk much less since I asked if she has gang bangs all the time. I felt terrible because she even let them have anal sex with her to lure them away from me. I could tell it hurt her so much but at the time was just thinking about my own survival. My childhood is OVER but I do not feel like an adult. Her advice is -Don’t let it get you so down-. Like I have a choice in this!! She went to a therapist ONCE because her mom made the appointment and does not plan to go back. Her life did not really change!! She works reception at a tech company and models on the side and still goes to parties and clubs and dates. How??? It is unbelievable how attitudes toward something like this can be so different in different countries. I am a victim now and I usually feel like it. Definitely damaged. Everybody at my school knows why. I am THAT girl. My new more mature boyfriend is understanding but I feel like a sad little burden to him. I am hypersexual sometimes now and can’t help it. It is a coping mechanism that happens to some victims of sexual assault. I did not ask for it. I worry my boyfriend can’t trust me because of it. I had an older guy friend who’s been my neighbor for years take advantage of me after I told him the story of what happened at his house. We had sex and then he felt guilty for being turned on by my rape story. He admitted it and asked me to forgive him. The sex helped me calm the ear ringing for just short time periods so I did it with him more than once a day for a bit until my dad started to suspect something and talked to him. Since then I don’t trust myself. I want to marry my boyfriend in large part just to protect myself and show him I love him and am loyal even though I am not sure I can be. I worry I cannot love like a normal person. I worry I push him away being too needy and wanting to marry him so soon. I need him more than he needs me. Is that the way it will always be in relationships for rape victims??? I work hard at school not to ruin my future. It is so hard to focus. My ears ring constantly. Thank you for listening.

I never associated my assaults as sexual assaults. I always just saw it as a thing that happened me that was upsetting until recently. I was groped, forced into having sex and preforming oral sex on him. I remember one time he offered to drive me home. I lived over 40 mins from town so I thought i could save myself €60 in a taxi. Until I realised we were going in the opposite direction to my house. He drove me to secluded area. I knew it wasn't right I said no said I was due my period I tried everything I could to deter him. It didn't work. I can't drive that road without a feeling of dread. I do feel part to blame and I know that's wrong. I hate how it makes me feel. When I hear stories in the news I can't help but think my story isn't as bad as theirs or that maybe mine wasn't rape or a sexual assault. I hate myself for thinking it.

When I started 4th grade, I had recently moved more north in the state I lived in (mainly to be more closer to family) and had to go to a different school for the first time. Within during that whole situation that my GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) had started to form and become out of control. So when I started my first day, I was a mess; and with my homeroom teacher knowing that, she assigned me to another student to help me get to know everything. She is the main person I’ll be talking about in this story and what happened with them still haunting me to this day. We immediately become best friends that day and at first everything was fine. She understood my situation and helped me calm down when my anxiety got too much for me, she helped keep me safe when I felt overwhelmed by my impulses, I was basically attached to her by the hip and was everything to me in the beginning. Over time though (specifically when her guardians (her grandparents) allowed us to hang out more/have sleepovers)…she changed. My memories are a little bit blurry (maybe due to not wanting to remember or my depression, idk why) but she was very different from if she was either at school or not. She started putting more blame on me for certain things, namely situations out of my control, started putting more possible unavoidable situations into my head that I’ll probably suffer through in the future. Sharing her weird imagination with me (with telling me she was a fused twin and her irl situation with her being a baby when her parents divorced and caring for her falling into her grandparents hands). Whatever gift I give her ending up in their garage/near the trash. And in later circumstances, she started hitting me. Being more physical behind closed doors; one moment acting kind and then the next, she’s on top of me and punching me in the face. I know I should’ve thought better since I was 10 at the time, but…I depended on her, I thought it was something common I had to experience with friendships and had to get used to even though she made my anxiety worse. This continued past after moving schools again and before COVID with the last time seeing her in person being for her birthday, we accidentally broke something and decided that I should take the blame for it even though it was her idea in the first place. After telling, I hid myself in a guest bedroom and fully broke down, feeling like I was going to be punished and my friend never checked on me at all even thought she saw where I went. After that, we namely called but she keep on calling over and over again, every day, multiple times by hour. One day, it just stopped. And sooner or later realized what really happened to me. Yesterday night, I thought about an infamous event with her that I’m still numb about. Basically from what I remember was talking in her room saying our goodbyes to each other since I was getting up to leave, but then she went up to me and unexpectedly kissed me on the cheek. She said her final goodbye after that and I silently left the room, confused about what happened. Thinking about it again recently has made me numb, uncomfortable, and having a buzzing sensation of where she’s kissed and hit me… If you’ve wondering about me now besides this, I’m safe, healthy, going to therapy (after a ‘recent’ incident with a friend), and am possibly looking for being revalued again after what has happened to me (including this incident) but namely for autism since a lot of friends and others suspect that I possibly am on the spectrum, but I still struggle with my mentality and now having to ‘become an adult’ even though I still feel like I’m 13. More things did happen to me after which did almost push me to suicide, but was (still am) too chicken to commit, especially with not wanting to leave my family or close friends behind (they are the only ones who know what happened). Also recently enough though did I hear of what happened to them after losing communication, my mom’s father (who was friends with her guardians) moved away a few years ago, which did somewhat ease my anxiousness of her somehow still being in my city’s area. But, I’m still so scared if she somehow sees/spots me again with it being a ‘small world’ situation. She may remember it as recalling by seeing an old friend again, but I’m still scared by how I’ll react if she finds me, after everything that happened.

I’m sharing here because I hope I can reach out to other women who may have gone through marital rape or may still be going through it and I want you to know you are not alone. For years I felt as if I was asleep as I couldn’t face up to what was happening to me, why I was losing weight and why I so depressed. I minimised everything, even to him. I would try and make him feel better afterwards. Most of the time it was as simple as me saying no to sex and him doing it anyway while I was completely disconnected, and it was so often, I would lie there and wait til he was done most of the time, but each thing built up to him pushing the boundaries further, sometimes when we were out in public, always after I went out with my friends, it was part of the deal. I always told myself he’d be in better form if I just went along with it. He was always so stressed and so angry. And I loved him and sometimes I enjoyed sex with him. It made things very confusing in my head. And I was eating barely anything, which he encouraged, he was constantly buying me exercise equipment and sexy outfits. I kept getting sick, I was tired and low all the time. My family and friends were saying I wasn’t myself. There were 3 incidents that I play over and over in my head that I couldn’t minimise (although I tried). And they led to me telling him our marriage was over. That was a year ago. I thought it might help me to write one of them down and maybe someone will identify with me and it might help them. It was at his best friends wedding and as usual, he wanted us to do something exciting sexually. So we went to the men’s toilets. We were kissing and we started to have sex. I was quite drunk. All of a sudden he turned me around and bent me over the toilet, my hands on the window sill. I started to say no. It came out in what sounded like a little girls voice. I don’t know why I remember that so well. I don’t know why I didn’t shout. He raped me anally in the men’s cubicle and I was crying looking at a dirty window sill and I could hear strange men outside commenting. Afterwards I kept asking why did you do that, I didn’t want that, it hurt me, you were too rough, I said no. But he he didn’t want to talk about it. He left me sitting with one of his male friends that I didn’t know to go outside with his best friend and have cigars. He saw I was in pain and bleeding for days after. I stayed with him for years after that. Other things happened after that too. I ended up feeling like his stress ball, a rag doll, good for nothing else. I was with him since I was 18 years old and we have children together. He was all I knew. He was my husband and I loved him. No one knew what was happening. Everyone thought we were a couple in love. It wasn’t until I told him I couldn’t share a bed with him anymore and I was starting ti have panic attacks that we went to a marriage counsellor and it all came out. I woke up. It was her face. Her reaction. I felt so stupid and embarrassed. And he tried to explain it away to her shouting at her that he was a man. I was sitting there thinking how did I let this happen to me? I always saw myself as quite a strong, intelligent, bubbly person. I’m in my 40s, I should know better. I was looking at the counsellors face and it somehow didn’t feel as if it was happening. I realised I was shaking and she was worried about me and he was shouting at her. I felt so embarrassed and helpless. And stupid in front of another grown woman. I was thinking what if this was someone I loved telling me this happened to them? But still in my head I kept thinking its not really rape because he was my husband, and I loved him and so many times I wanted to have sex with him so how could it be rape. But why did he want to hurt me? I kept thinking this couldn’t be happening to me. Anyway thanks for reading. I hope it helps someone. I feel it helped me to write it down.

Former employer have a history of this thing I think. When worked there did wage theft and harassment, official whistleblower, feels like a crane sometimes, after stop working continue to stalk and harass for over a decade now, follow in vehicles, harassing phone calls daily, listen in on phone calls using tech. , no full time job since 2007, engage in blacklisting campaign, have friends and family on payroll to harass even right down street not a very pretty picture.

what i have learned from this ordeal is that someone who wants to hurt you is intimidated by your light. they’re afraid that if you know how beautiful you are, you will leave them so they try to bring you down. but they can only dim your light for a time, they can’t take it away from you. our bodies are resilient and they are made to heal. survivor

As man who suffered abuse and watched as my mother and sister suffered it with me, here's my story. I have turned it into a book called Book Name that will be published in 2025, in the hopes my story will help others who have been silent to speak up and speak out. Growing up in 1960s City, my father’s explosive temper ruled our house like a storm that never stopped raging. His beatings were a ritual—unpredictable but inevitable. His belt was his weapon of choice, and I was the target. First came the verbal assault. “You’re worthless!” he’d scream, spitting his venomous words before unleashing the belt on me. The crack of leather against my skin was sharp, but what cut deeper was the fear that filled my every moment. His attacks were brutal and relentless, and I learned quickly that crying only made it worse. I developed a mantra to survive: “I’m not crazy; he is.” I scratched those words into the wall beneath my bed and held onto them like a lifeline, clinging to the idea that this madness wasn’t my fault. But no mantra could protect me from the pain or the scars that came with each beating. My body bruised and welted, and I carried those marks into adulthood, hidden beneath layers of clothing and false smiles. When I was six, a moment of curiosity nearly killed me. I had been playing outside, tossing sticks into a neighbor’s burning barrel, when a spark landed on my nylon jacket. Within seconds, I was engulfed in flames. As I screamed and ran, my back burning, a neighbor tackled me into the snow, saving my life. In the hospital, as doctors worked to heal my third-degree burns, my fear of my father overshadowed the pain. When I came home, still covered in bandages, my father’s violence continued. He slapped me across the face for not attending the party he had arranged for my homecoming. The message was clear: no amount of suffering would earn me compassion from him. His cruelty was unyielding, and I realized that nearly dying had changed nothing. As the physical scars from the fire healed, the emotional scars festered. I lived in constant fear, not knowing when the next beating would come. His footsteps sent shivers through me, each step a reminder that I was never safe. Even after his death in year his influence loomed over me. I was relieved he was gone, but unresolved grief and anger remained. I sought to reinvent myself in university, throwing myself into academics and work. I was determined to escape the trauma, but no matter how hard I ran, it followed me. The violence I experienced as a child soon became violence I inflicted on myself. In my twenties, bulimia became my way of coping. I would binge on food and purge, as if vomiting could expel the pain I had carried for so long. It was a twisted ritual of control, and yet I had no control at all. Afterward, I would collapse in a heap, my body drained but my mind still haunted by memories I couldn’t outrun. Each cycle promised relief, but it never lasted. Obsessive exercise became another outlet. I spent hours in the gym, pushing my body to its limits, believing that if I could perfect my exterior, I could somehow fix the brokenness inside. I built muscles to protect myself, but the mirror always reflected the truth—hollow eyes staring back at me, the emptiness never far behind. Even as I climbed the ranks in my career, becoming a corporate executive, the gnawing self-doubt persisted. I was successful, but success didn’t heal the wounds my father left. I also sought comfort in strangers. Fleeting encounters became a way to fill the void inside, offering temporary escape from the relentless pain. But after every encounter, the emptiness returned, more consuming than before. No amount of running, lifting, or sex could fill the gaping hole in my heart. I was numbing myself, not living. It wasn’t until I sought therapy that I began to confront the traumas I had buried so deeply. My first therapist suggested writing letters to my parents, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It took finding the right therapist—someone who pushed me to go beyond the surface—to finally begin the healing process. Slowly, I unraveled the layers of pain, facing not only the abuse from my father but also the self-inflicted harm I had continued to impose upon myself for years. My wife, name became my greatest support, helping me peel back the layers and confront the darkness I had hidden for so long. Together, we built a life of love and connection, but even in those happiest moments, the shadows of my past never left me. When my mother passed away indate, I found closure in our complicated relationship. Forgiveness—both for her and for myself—became an essential part of my healing. Today, I use my story to encourage others to speak up and break the silence around abuse. The pain I endured was not in vain. I believe that our past can fuel our purpose and that, ultimately, our pain can become our power.

When I was eight or nine years old and older girl showed me while humping a girl a year older than me the year older than me girl used to take me down to the basement and help me. We would pull down our pants though so it was not dry humping a year or so later I showed a girl my same age and asked her if she wanted to do the hump she said yes a couple times and eventually said no and that was it however, I worried that I could’ve made someone gay or by sexual and I Was never able to think about it without getting very depressed and I didn’t tell anyone for years. It has been many years since and I had a family situation that caused me to be depressed, and it all came back to me. The shame the guilt the depression. I contacted the girl about 20 years ago and she said I had not harmed her and I kept asking her and finally she said you’ve given this a lot of thought maybe I should give it some thought too. Maybe I can get something out of it and I was shocked that she hadn’t given it any thought because I was worried during Puberty Maybe something would happen and it was my fault. I am a person that always blames myself anyway, I am going to therapy now twice a week online and trying to deal with my emotions regarding this. I know I was a normal child and I read that childhood sexual play and experimenting or learning about your self is common, but it just felt bad to me. I would appreciate any comments or feedback.

I never knew a happy safe experience of intimate connection until i was 39. Well, I don't know if that is 100% accurate to say but it feels true to say. It was with a woman - a friend. We were pretty drunk and I was getting over my first relationship, one which had turned abusive, and she was maybe exploring her sexuality before committing to a life relationship with her partner. We were not alone - there was another friend also there - on the other side of her - a good guy, a very good friend of hers. Me and this guy friend did not gravitate towards each other though. She kissed my hair. I hadn't felt so loved or cared for in a long time. The grasping/rejecting/fearful dichotomy was gone and for the first time i sensed it didn't need to be that way. She seemed to want me to be close to her and i didn't feel pressure to be anyone or do anything other than what felt right in that moment. From that experience, i learnt that there is such generosity and healing in reciprocal loving touch. I guess i maybe felt that way occasionally with my ex-partner. But it's funny how when bad experiences happen between you and another person, it can rinse even the best memory and sensation with a dulling wash.

I live in Japan. I have been here for 7 years. I got married to a man that I felt I was in love with and had a daughter. I thought we were ok. We got divorced. He told me he stopped loving me when I wanted to hear about his day. He cheated on me with multiple women, getting very physical and most likely sexual. I am now alone with my daughter and have to work through all this on my own.

The body remembers trauma. I didn’t know this until I experienced it myself. After a fun and rambunctious night with my husband (now ex) I woke up the next morning feeling particularly sore. As I sat on the toilet I realized that this soreness was something I had felt before. I then had a flashback from my sophomore year in college. When I woke up groggy after a night of partying with my soccer teammates. I headed to the bathroom. As I peed I felt that sore and ache-y feeling. I didn’t know what it was and wrote it off as cramps and hangover. I remember looking in the mirror and seeing that I wasn’t wearing my pajamas. Just a random top and shorts. When I got back to my dorm room my then boyfriend was just waking up. And that was the end of my flashback. I then realized my sexual history was a lie. I thought I had lost my virginity to my husband and he was my first and only partner. But this changed everything. I lost my virginity to my boyfriend who raped me and I had no idea. My sexual narrative and my identity changed in my late 30's because of this revelation. Who am I? What does this mean? Bits and pieces from the night returned. I know we drank a lot. I know he walked me home. Thats all I can remember because I blacked out. Is it better that I blacked out? That I cant remember the horrible thing done to me? I don't know. I just feel a bit lost and scared for the 19 year old me who was young and naive. She didn't know what to do. Now in my early 40's divorced and a single parent I'm healing the wounds that were invisible and hiding for so long. Im listening to my body now. And I'm going to nourish it.

I had accepted my fate, until one day a friend witnessed the aftermath of the abuse. That friend saved my life, and I found my will to live. It's been ten years since I said no more, and I've built a life for myself that I never thought I'd live to see. You are not alone. You are worthy. You are loved. You deserve the world. There is a reason you are here, and the world is so much better with you in it.

i'm so nervous this afternoon, i'm finally going to the police to share my story about a guy at school who assaulted me over the summer (i live in the southern hemisphere, so around january). he's a school captain, and i'm vice-captain so he's already in a position of power not only over me but the entire school, and the teachers practically worship the ground he walks on (last time i reported verbal harassment from him, the teachers blamed me) so i'm hoping something changes. i'm terrified, and anxious, but i'm also proud. knowing that i'm doing something a lot of victims don't get the chance to do. i'm going to share my story, and i pray to god that he faces the consequences because this isn't the first time he's done bad things, and won't be the last. stay strong my lovelies, you can share your story too <3 if you wanna chat at all, you can dm social media handle on instagram (my assault awareness page) - a survivor

I was in my local pub, the landlady told me someone knew to the area was lonely so I asked him to play pool. We hung out a few times after that, one time walking home at the end of the night he took my hand I told him I had a boyfriend. Not long after I was out with my brothers and we met him, after a while they went home and then me and him were walking home, we lived very near each other in a small town so it was normal to walk together. I don't know who suggested walking through the playground which I'd done a million times with other people, but I remember he was kissing me and 3 times I said no and asked him to stop then I froze as I realised I didn't really know him and he could do anything to me, all I could think was let him do whatever he wanted to me as long as I survive and get home to my boyfriend. The next morning I woke up and went to the bathroom, I was bleeding from where he'd raped me anally and bruised where he'd held my arms down. I had love bites on my chest.I don't know how I got home. I started to drink more as I kept bumping into him and he kept asking me to go out with him. When I went to the place of work for work I'd bump into him on the street and need to run home and drink so I could calm down before going back to work. I rang support organisation, I was told not to tell my boyfriend as that would only upset him. 8 years later I went to rehab for alcoholism. It was that or suicide. I did meet up with him once more a few weeks after the assault as I needed to tell him what he'd done was not okay, he didn't care, said he didn't remember. I still feel angry and guilty for not reporting him but he's from another country and left my town many years ago so its not possible, I don't even know his last name. I just hope he hasn't done it to anyone else. I was also afraid that if I reported him that my boyfriend would leave me or that I wouldn't be believed because I was drinking with him. I wish when the landlady asked me to help him that I hadn't and never feel like I can trust my instincts since then.

I was used by my brother who has grown up a lot but I still carry scars. My brother is four years older than me and when I was going from elementary school to Junior high, that summer, he made me think that girls in junior high need to know how to give oral to boys. First he did oral to me to show me it was not a big deal. I thought it was a huge deal. But I did it and he got me trained and had me keep it a secret, except from by best friend. He had his friend over when I had a sleepover one night and had her do it to his friend. Then they would have us do contests where they wear blindfolds. At least I was not alone then. It changed me even though seventh grade itself had nothing to do with anything like that. It was a lie to get pleasure from me. My brother still had me doing it at home. And sometimes he would do it to me and I did climax. So I had this weird secret sex life and felt really messed up about it. Then in eight grade I had my first real boyfriend. My parents are so strict, even though they both worked and left me alone with my brother. To go to the movies with my boyfriend they made sure it was with a group and took me there and waited outside the theater. Well one time when we went to see Snow White and the Huntsman my same BFF and me went through with our plan to go down on our guys in the last row of the theater and we did it. It was only a month later I started having sex with him which never would have happened if not for what my brother had done. We snuck out from her place during a sleepover and met the boys outside and went to the nearby park and did it in the grass. That was my virginity. The really bad event, where my life got knocked off the tracks, is when we tried it from my house, sneaking out the window and going just out farther into my big back yard that opened into nothing but the side of a big hill and my dad caught us. It was awful. The world ended. I was treated like a huge betrayer and almost all my privileges were revoked and essentially I was grounded without any end date. And still by brother would make me do the oral. I was broken hearted because I was not allowed to have my boyfriend to the point my parents made me go to the school and talk to the principal and vice principal and they made sure I would not have any chance to ever see him alone. And my brother kept creeping in at night sometimes or when we were left alone expecting me to do what he had trained me to be used to. The next really bad part was two months into my new restricted life. My brother started doing his oral on me one afternoon after school and decided to take it farther and got up and started kissing me and had sex with me. I was in the moment and did not do anything to stop him and even participated. No condom. It was an afternoon when my parents were away and so we did not have to keep quiet or worry and he did it so much longer than my few times with my boyfriend, because he was older and knew more from being with other girls that I got sore for my first time and got a urine infection. I did not eat my dinner that night and pretended to be sick and cried myself to sleep. My brother really wanted to do it again, telling me it was the best sex he ever had, but I refused and one thing I could say for him back then was at least he was not a rapist. Even though he pressured me he never tried to force himself inside me. Four months after I had lost my incest virginity the school year ended and he graduated. I went to high school and he moved out to live in college dorms 120 miles from our home town. Public school was over for me, as was planned as soon as my dad caught me on the hill. I went to an all girl’s Catholic high school. My dad had to drive me a half hour every morning and my mom picked me up from my whole first year. Then they got me a car so I could drive myself but the mileage and my times were closely monitored. I did not have an intercourse throughout high school but seven times total I did oral on my brother during summer and winter breaks when we were both at home. That was the end of incest in my life. I went to college in Atlanta but not the same one as my brother. I rebelled against my parents and even though they tried to keep control, as a legal adult I did not let them. Turmoil and sadness lasted months until they finally got it. I separated from them financial and worked and took out student loans. I was very promiscuous in college. I drank, partied and used drugs recreationally and had several guys I was seeing on and off for mostly sex. That was my life and I thought I enjoyed it at the time. I became stronger and more assertive and when my brother first hinted during a Thanksgiving meeting at our relative’s house that we go for a drive I told him I never wanted to touch him again in such a powerful way that he knew I was off limits and even seemed like the scared one in our relationship. I didn’t enroll in classes for two nonconsecutive semester just because my party life was so much more fun. I traveled on and off. Sometimes with friends, sometimes with men, usually older, who invited me to exotic places. The Maldives, Portugal, The Virgin Islands. I let my married boss use me for a weekend in Key West. I had an affair with my Spanish teacher, who only took me as far as Panama City, Florida. So many risky one night stands. My identity was that I was not looking for anything permanent, a child of the universe. While I was used as a plaything so many times and believed I liked the game. I would tell them things about wanting to make their dick happy and stuff that would inflate their ego. I’m sure there are so many text messages out there that they saved about the size of their D fitting in my little P, about being a little girl wanting them to teach me to be woman and other depraved fantasies I thought they wanted to hear. Obviously directly related to what my brother did to me. I am almost positive I avoided being raped more than once by going with the flow when I did not expect to or probably want to. It may be good that some of them I probably don’t remember. Once was at one of the few fraternity parties I ever went to. It was three guys, not my usual style. Once was with my roommate's father who was visiting her at our rented house and found his way to my bed in the early morning. One of the more extreme traumatic events was with a police officer who pulled me over for driving when I had been drinking but was under the legal limit on his breathalyzer. He followed me home, like a mile away, “for my safety” and even followed me inside. I was in an apartment then and I thought my roomate was home and told him so. But when she wasn’t there he said I lied to a police officer and he had to do a more thorough search if I wanted to avoid being arrested. He was not attractive or nice. He had a gun thought he never took it out. You can guess what happened. I finally shed that wild life during my second to last semester when I saw the end of college coming. My G.P.A was 3.3. and my major was philosophy and it dawned on me that the future was not bright in terms of what I would do or how I would pay back my loans. I buckled down and decided to change. I had an offer to strip and ‘make a lot of money’ but thankfully not only did never considered myself like that, but when I went with a friend for her interview and they tried to recruit me they were so sleazy we both ran out of there disgusted. I reevaluated my whole life. I considered ending it, but some survival mechanism did not allow it. I did not want to be the person I had been for a few years. I looked ahead and saw it was not sustainable as I aged and had no real love or stability. I quit serving when I got an offer to work in a legal office. I slept with the manager who hired me as a receptionist but it was a drop in the bucket of things to be shameful of. He was the last one like that. I got all A’s and graduated cum laude. I got promoted in the firm mostly by title but used it to spring away and take a lower paying job in a nonprofit law firm where I had not slept with anyone. There I did sleep with a lawyer but I am married to him still and my life is back together. I love him and he loves me. He does not know the extent of my sluttiness in college or about my brother and I doubt he ever will. That darkness is fading and it is not part of my life now. It is not who I am. As for my brother, he has a family now and we are on good terms. We did talk about it once while I was studying like crazy my senior year, although it was not a big deep talk. I did mention that he used me, he apologized, we hugged, and that was it. Not the cathartic confrontation some might expect. My catharsis is my husband, and my life now that I am grateful for. We adopted two toddler brothers and I am their mom. Maybe we’ll have one of our own. Maybe we’ll adopt again. I was used and introduced to sex too young and early and it strained my relationship with my parents for a long time and I’ll never get that back. It derailed my life. I was set adrift for a while but God or the universe or random luck finally put me in a good place. Everything that happened led me what I have now. I can’t say I never contemplated suicide in darker times. But like in the move Cast Away, if I may quote, “I stayed alive. I kept breathing. And one day my logic was proven all wrong because the tide came in, and gave me a sail. And now, here I am.” Thousands of hours spent studying philosophy and I quote a movie that was not even based on a book. But it’s perfect.

Hi. I am now 20 years old. This happened when I was 4 and 8 years old. I was sexually assaulted by my baby sisters father when I was 4, I watched him force my other sister (2 years old) to go down on him / lick his penis. Me as well. My siblings and I have different fathers. I remember running away from him, climbing onto a bunk bed. He grabbed me, and walked me back to my mothers and his bedroom. He threw me onto the bed and used a white sock to lock the double doors. I was wearing cartoon underwear. My memory cuts off when he penetrates, but I feel physical pain when I try to think of it. No one believed me when I opened up after I was 8. When I was 8, I woke up with my grandmothers ex husbands hands in my pants. He groomed me for years. He taught me to ride a bike when I was younger. I told my mother right away, went to therapy and testified against him. He went to prison, but for only 4-5 years. My therapist was the first person I told about my sisters father. However my mother didn’t believe me, because there was no damage when they checked at 9 years old. She thought he was a good man, and I was just making it up. Even when my baby sister came out and said her dad had been hurting her. Easter of 2019, my baby sister called me. Her baby sister, 4 years old, was being sexually abused by her father. They have court coming up next year, and it breaks my heart. The father is no longer allowed around his children, thank god. But if someone believed us, maybe we could’ve prevented it. I still struggle with this today. My flashbacks and nightmares worsen in 2018, once I was in my own place and comfortable to start processing the trauma. In the past 5 months, my grandmothers ex husband kept coming into my job. I recognized him by the back of his head. I haven’t seen him since the court room. I hyperventilated and had to leave work multiple times, until my managers finally got a chance to tell him that him and his mother is not allowed there. He pretended like he didn’t recognize me when we confronted him, but the second time he came in we made eye contact and by his reaction on the security footage he knew me. His parole officer called me, asked for my address so if he came near my apartment or job, his ankle bracelet would alert him. I am very relieved. I hope one day, I’ll heal. I’ll be okay. But for now I’m taking baby steps.

At a young age, I started therapy. I found through therapy I grew up with narcissistic parents, and my sister developed narcissistic traits. I was the scapegoat in the family. My parents taught my siblings and I that family comes first. My family took advantage of my sensitivity. They expected me to do everything for them. If I did anything for myself, I was told I am selfish. After years of therapy, I learned that explained a lot as to why the relationships I had felt similar to what I had with my family. I never knew my childhood trauma linked to my relationships. My daughter's father abused us emotionally, mentally, and physically. Hitting, slapping, belittling, name calling and more. A lot like how my family treated me, but minus the physical abuse. Eventually he left. Before he left, he pinned me to the wall and threatened to hit me. He left. I got a restraining order. He broke it by coming to my house. No one was home at the time, but he was there because he left a note on the gate of my house. That happened two more times. After awhile, it stopped. A few years later, I attempted another relationship. I ended the relationship last year. I had to. He was a combination of my dad and my daughter's father when it came to narcissistic abuse and domestic violence. After finding my current therapist, my therapist said she she is proud of me. She said I was able to break the generational chain of abuse. It was scary to break up with my now ex, but I wasn't happy. The healing is scary, emotional, but necessary. Both my Down Syndrome daughter, and I are blessed to have each other.

If you take 13 and multiply it by four you get 52. If you multiply it by 5 you get 65. My assaulter was at least four to five times my age. He took advantage of me in a vulnerable moment. Choosing to grope a young girl in the dark of night while her friends were in the other side of the door. I know I was not raped but it feels almost wrong to consider it assault. Like I'm using a label that is not meant for me to use. But I know no other way to describe what happened aside from that. I didn't realize how much wrong that behavior was until weeks later. I still am trying to wrap my head around everything years later. I am less trusting and have a sharper personality because of it. All I do know, is that it was wrong. And his a** can burn.